Okay, so totally new
territory for me. I totally had a crush on Tawny when I was younger
(my type, you see ) and I just got
in the mood one day to write this little number. Obviously, it's
been a long time since I've seen the series and some facts may not
be completely correct, but allow me a little creative license. Now
from the first chapter is meant to be ambiguous, it's really just a
precursor to some other ideas working in my head for later chapters.
In short, this isn't my best work, but later chapters will be much
better I promise. Anyone who knows my Marimite fic, never fear, the
last chapter is in the works.

Standard disclaimers
apply, and please review with any suggestions on plot or other
material to write fiction on. Thanks!

I have a story. It's
not a very typical story, but it is a love story. It's not a
once-upon-a-time, and there are no princes, princesses, kissing
frogs, or evil witches. It's by no means your ordinary love story,
but then again, I'm not really an ordinary girl.

It's a strange thing,
how two people from completely different worlds get drawn together by
something they can't explain.

Strange, but beautiful
too.

I begin in High School.
First day, take three. I'm finally an upperclassman, and it's all
the usual shit. I can already tell that I'm going to hate Physics,
and math is just as boring as ever. And for the love of God, how many
times can they cram American history down our throats? The only
bright spots are my English and Creative Writing classes, but by the
end of the day I can already tell that it's going to be a very,
very long year.

I step outside into the
bright afternoon sunlight. It's an unnaturally hot California day,
and I'm starting to regret my jeans and long sleeved black shirt
ensemble. I push my hair off my neck for a moment of air, and look
around the emptying school grounds.

I see my two best
friends Louis and Twitty sitting on the steps near the main entrance,
and walk over to join them. It was just yesterday that we were
lounging at Twitty's house, watching re-runs of The Office and
doing absolutely nothing. What a difference a day makes.

"Hey Tawny,"
say Louis and Twitty, almost in unison.

"Hello, boys,"
I reply dryly and drop my black bag on the sidewalk, enjoy the
audible thud it makes on the concrete steps.

"Ooh, moody I
see," Louis comments. "Bad day?"

I sit between the two
boys and heave a dramatic sigh. "My advisor told me that I need
to join more extracurricular activities if I want to get into a
decent college."

Twitty's eyes widen.
"She said that?"

"Not in those
exact terms," I admit," she also said I should try in other
classes besides English. But that is the condensed version of an
otherwise pointless 20 minute meeting."

"Harsh,"
Louis comments. "I once thought about doing that, but an
extracurricular would seriously cut into my much-needed goofing off
time."

Twitty laughs. I roll
my eyes.

"But in all
seriousness," Louis says, trying to stop laughing, "you do
like writing and stuff, right? You should probably do something with
that."

Louis opens a Coke,
although I have no doubt he doesn't need either the caffeine or the
sugar. "There you go, Tawn."

"Never mind the fact
that the school paper is currently the anarchic domain of your older
sister," I remark dryly.

"Don't let the
perfect one scare you," Louis takes a long pull from the Coke, then
a mischievous grin crosses his face. "In fact, I bet you could take
her on if you wish. You know, girl power and such."

"They've got like,
totally different personality styles, and they're both really
hard-headed. It'll make for hours of entertainment. Personally, I'd
be rooting for Tawn. The Queen's gotta be dethroned one of these
days."

I look incredulously at
Louis, not quite believing my ears.

"You've got to be
kidding me."

Louis laughs again.
"Mostly, yeah. But still, you should go for it, if you can get past
Ren's holier-than-the-pen attitude I'm sure you'd get some
excellent extracurricularin' out of it." I cringe at Louis'
misuse of the two adages, and Twitty just shakes his head.

I groan inwardly. It
was actually a good idea, though I'm not that receptive to taking
advice from Louis Stevens. As good a friend as he was, his motives
weren't always the purest, and he's always had a penchant for
laughing at other's expense. But of course, it had always been that
way.

Join the school paper.
As much as I don't want to do it, the only other option at this
point was the gymnastics team, and I sure as hell wasn't going to
give anyone in this school that pleasure. I sigh deeply, and shrug
her shoulders.

"Alright then. School
paper it is."

I pick up my bag,
stand. "I guess I'm going to go talk Ren, then."

I hear Louis' voice
as I retreat back to the school: "Dude, was that clever or what?
I'm so going to be scoring this year; the ladies won't know what
hit them."

I walk faster.

I've never actually
been to the newspaper office, in fact, I barely know where it is. I
make a lucky guess that it must be near the main office, and happen
to see the door marked "The Cougar Weekly" across the hallway.
Good guess. I step inside.

"Can I help you," a
small dark haired boy at one of the dark wood tables calls out,
barely looking up from a Sudoku puzzle.

"Yeah," I shove my
hands in pockets out of habit. "I'm here to see Ren Stevens for a
position here at the paper."

The boy raises one
hand, points down a narrow hallway. "Around the corner, at the very
end. She should be there."

I don't bother saying
thanks; the boy is already engrossed in his Sudoku once again.

I make my way to the
editor's office, dodging people with cameras, stepping around the
chairs of those pounding away on their keyboards. I find the door to
her office open, and leaning over the desk is a tall, brown haired
boy. Ren is sitting at the desk in the editor's office, poring over
some paper, a red felt tip pen in her right hand, poised over the
page, ready to make any necessary corrections.

Ren Stevens. The very
picture of perfection. Her grades are impeccable; she's organized,
neat and tidy. She has her life in order, no doubt already thinking
about which schools she wants to go to. The Ivy Leagues, perhaps?
Yale, Harvard? Or something closer to home, like USC or Stanford?

I feel, unexpectedly, a
little bit intimidated. It's not as if she's a stranger, my years
of friendship with Louis allowed me some exposure to the girl. Not
that we were friends. First name basis, nods of acknowledgement in
the supermarket was really as far as it went. I found her
pretentious, a perfectionist, and I'm sure she saw me as the
sarcastic little Emo girl who used to date her brother. The thought
makes me laugh inside. I knock on the door frame.

She looks up. "Hello?"
She pauses a moment, does a double take. Her eyes, for only a moment,
flash the 'what are you doing here' sentiment, but she recovers
quickly.

"Oh, hey Tawny. What
did Louis do this time?" She's wearing a red tank top and jeans,
with black-rimmed glasses. Red is really her color.

"Actually, I came
here to talk to you."

She finally puts the
red felt pen down. "Okay, no problem. Come in. This is Peter, he's
the assistant editor and one of our opinion columnists."

"Hi," he raises a
hand in greeting.

"Hi."

I realize that I'm
still standing outside her door, and I step inside.

"Sorry about the lack
of chairs," the Peter says, "whenever the main office is running
low chairs mysteriously disappear from here."

"That's okay," I
say, setting my bag on the ground. "I was wondering if you needed
any more help here on the staff, my counselor thought it would be a
good idea to get some writing experience for college."

"Actually, yes!"
says Peter "Two of the underclassmen just quit. Do you have any
experience?"

"Nothing formal, but
I'm a good writer, I could pick it up quickly."

Peter claps his hands
together. "Wonderful! One issue: resolved. What do you think Ren?"

She looks a little
blindsided, and for a second she just blinks at me.

"Umm...yeah. That's
good. Welcome aboard, Tawny."

"Actually, our
beginning of the year meeting is going to be right now, so if you
want to sit in you'd get all the information you need," Peter
explains as Ren stands and moves around the desk.

We walk back to the
main room, where several other people are talking, lounging, or
working on homework, waiting for the meeting to start. Ren makes her
way to the front of the room, and claps her hands loudly. The talking
continues, so I display a little known talent by bringing my fingers
up to my mouth and let out a loud, long, piercing whistle.

Ren just looks at with
these wide eyes. What is that look?

"Hello, everyone. I'm
Ren Stevens, most of you know me already. This year, we want the
Cougar Weekly to be something that we can all be proud of. Our budget
has been expanded this year, so we're really going to get a chance
to spread our wings and see what we're capable of."

Someone at the back
starts humming "Wind Beneath My Wings" and a few snickers emit
from the crowd.

Ren looks unfazed.
"Thanks for that. But in all seriousness, we're understaffed
right now, which means some of you are going to be doing assignment
you don't want to do, but if you can learn to compromise then I'm
sure we can all work something out. Okay, then. Newbies this year:
Marcus Fielding, Ben Gilleland, and Tawny Dean. Newbies, if I assign
something to you, then you write your article on that, if not, think
of your job as a freelance. You can write about what you want, and if
I like it I'll print it. The rest of you know the drill, write
what's assigned to you, submit all articles to me Thursday morning
by eight, new assignments by Friday afternoon. That should be about
it." She turns to Peter. "Anything to add, Peter?"

"Just that we're
getting a new printer soon, so be patient with the old one."